


Until the Wind Ceases Singing

by Restitutor_Orbis



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:40:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24973984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Restitutor_Orbis/pseuds/Restitutor_Orbis
Summary: Leliana is enamored with Amayian's smile, so rare and sweet it is.-Also known as two dorks being in love and I need some fluff for them because I am depress. :D
Relationships: Leliana/Male Trevelyan (Dragon Age), Male Inquisitor/Leliana (Dragon Age)
Kudos: 8





	Until the Wind Ceases Singing

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place in an alternate universe than in Woven Memories, since Amayian and Leliana haven't been together yet, so no spoilers on that platform.

The snow glimmered silver under the swarm of misty and pale moonlight, as flakes as white as stars whirled in a slant across the world, flashing and flickering with every fleeting touch of silvery light. Streaks of bare, thin figures dotted the horizon, knotted limbs spreading about with leafless arms covered in a sheen of silver-gold. Wavering, it flowed and swept, pouring as if it was water flowing across a cliff. Whirling eastern winds came to sway the branches, a low moan rolling through them and pitching high to fill Leliana’s ears a lonely and forgotten song; a melody forgotten by man, but remembered eternal by trees and mountains, by air and sea. She strained her ears to listen, and feel the uneasiness that often clung to her wane and wavered, slipping away from her shoulders like a silken cloak. 

An amber glow blossomed scattering shadows, flowing across the bare trees and scorched their shadow-cladded bodies with an orange-crimson flush. The tendrils of flames wrapped and twirled about in a flowy, blending dance, specks of embers streaking through the darkness like stars across a night sky. She could feel the heat against her cloak of heavy gray wolf fur, and the wind’s icy caress seeping through leathers and gaps in her armor. The warmth of it was more intense, with a heaviness to it that drew at her shoulders and her eyelids; an allure of rest came over her. 

“I did tell you that you should have rested, did I not?” said a voice, like the booming of thunder and the warmth of the sun, a deep brass well suited for speaking. Though, she knew the man to whom it belonged rarely did so.  _ He does so with you, _ whispered a voice deep within her, coming from her chest. It held a warmth to it, which flooded throughout her limbs in slow glide. 

She turned and notched an eyebrow at the man. Onyx-black locks flowed in heavy waves down his shoulders, almost curling at the tips, thick and only touched with gray at his temples. Old scars raced across his right eye, over his eyebrow and down to his cheek, gently curving almost. Another dashed over his lips, soft and full as they were. New scars had formed, too. One cut from beneath his ear across his cheekbone, though that was thin and healing fast, and more still were scattered across his arms and chest and back. Scars which spoke of fights ancient and new, memories old and young. Licking her lips, she remembered each one well enough, the feel of them against her hands and mouth, and she recalled the sharp inhale that broke through him when she had kissed the first one—one that cut from his throat and down to the center of his chest in a diagonal. Her lips curled gently at the memory, and her heart fluttered at it as well. Sweet memories, ones that the Spymaster clung onto almost hungrily. 

“Yes,” admitted Leliana, “you did.” Shifting, she turned away from the splattering, twisting shadows. Tucking her knees up to her chest, she rested her chin on them and her smile grew. Amayian was dressed in a thick black bear’s fur, a coat of black lined with silver scrolls around his cuffs, and tight breeches of black with riding boots crawled up his knees. The coat flowed to his knees when he was standing at full height, a staggering six-foot-eight. He was broad-shouldered, with arms laced with muscles and a wide chest narrowing a tad down to a scar-covered waist. A scuffle of a beard covered his cheeks, chin, and around his mouth, highlighting his full lips. Gray peppered those hairs, too, but he was not old, either. A man only passed his twentieth-seventh year, he seemed as stern and uncaring as a statue...but Leliana knew how to draw a smile to those lips, and to make those golden-strewn green eyes warm to that of a gentle fire. During these days, she found those smiles as more than special—they brought something more into her life that would otherwise not have been there. A purpose for good that otherwise would have been snubbed out, washed away and replaced by the cold water of duty, enfixed as a heavy, apathetic monument. Leliana knew her responsibilities to the Inquisition, but now it was strengthened by something more, something real and warm, in comparison to that harsh pragmatism life that she had clung to during her time as Left Hand. “But I can spend more time with you if I was awake.”

For a moment, Leliana saw that sweet, subtle smile flicker at his lips’ corners, but they drew back into a calming line almost as quickly. Almost…She took that as another needed victory, another spark of light that cut through the thick darkness which surrounded undisturbed around her. “I would rather see you rest than stumble around sleeping, though I have never seen you stumble.” He said that as much as musing to himself than to her.

“I stumbled into your heart and arms,” noted Leliana, blushing at her words, and inwardly cursed herself for that. It sounded worse than in her head, but they tumbled out without her acknowledgement, like the trickling of water through a cracked stone. 

A rumble came from deep within his chest. “My dear, that was the worst one I had heard yet.” But his smile stayed a moment longer than before, and the light from the campfire stroke the gold deeper within the green, burning them into molten gold. They were softer than the distance that often glimmered in his eyes. 

“Oh, be quiet.” Laughing, she shook her head. Once, she would have been more than appalled at what she often said, idly, and a part of her still did, but with Amayian she did not feel as awkward. Perhaps it was because he was on the same land as she was, unfamiliar and far sweeter than either one of them deserved.  _ But he deserves this. He deserves more than me. _ She clamped down hard onto those words, pushing deep within her mind so it could never merge again from its depths.  _ Focus on his smile, his eyes. Remember that he feels as undeserving as you do _ . Her thought was a little more comforting. 

Rising from her position, Leliana tread toward the man, slipping into his lap with ease. She only came up to the center of his chest, even when sitting on his lap. Warmth flooded to her cheeks, prickling almost down to her throat. Raising her hands to his neck, her fingers tangled into the locks at the back of his neck. They were soft, she knew, even if her hands were gloved. She felt his arms wrap snugly around her waist, gently squeezing. She smiled. Amayian was warm, and his scent had a woody smell to it, yet not overbearing. Calming, almost, in a way. Kissing his chin, she could feel his beard grazing across her lips. “I can sleep here,” she murmured against him.

Another chuckle, and it sent a gentle tingle between her thighs. “You could, but we would most likely die from frostbite, if not a wandering bear.”

“Hmm. That doesn’t sound  _ too _ bad.” She grinned up at him when he looked down, an eyebrow raised. “Oh, fine. You can carry me to the tent. But in a little while. I want to feel you and the fire for a bit longer.” She pressed her head against his chest and inhaled gently, the lull of before growing within her steadily, like there were weights to her arms and her shoulders. “I want to be with you for a little longer.” She stifled a yawn.

She felt fingers roll through her hair in a soothing manner. “ _ Ma cheri, _ ” he whispered, gently, as her eyes slowly fell close. “I will be with you, always. Until the sun burns out and the wind ceases its endless song, and even beyond that.” The one arm around her waist tightened. Perhaps he thought she had fallen asleep. “I...I can’t lose you.” His voice was barely a whisper.

Snuggling closer to him, her smile grew. _ Oh,  _ mon amour, _ I will always be with you, too. Till the wind ends our song and it is lifted up by the Maker into that windless city, we will be together. Then, and forever afterward. I can never lose your smile, your eyes, so sweet and kind beyond anything I could ever deserve. _

Instead of speaking those words, she pressed ever closer to him, as if afraid that warmth that poured out from him would cease and mend away, and the warmth of the fire compared little to that; that one warmth that clung to against all else. 

Her light; her love; her everything. 


End file.
